


Sunlight Ascending

by mormolyce



Category: Forever (2018)
Genre: F/F, anyway the ending was cute but i got queerbaited so, look ma i can go even nicher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 23:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormolyce/pseuds/mormolyce
Summary: “Hey,” says Kase, “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”





	Sunlight Ascending

“Hey,” says Kase, “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

June looks up, squinting between her fingers. The morning has become startlingly bright, the sun creeping from behind the clouds as it moves towards midday. June, lost in thought for what she now knows must have been hours, has scarcely moved.

“No, I um…” She drops her hand, looks back out towards the horizon. “Oscar left this morning, so…”

“And you watched him?” scoffs Kase.

She sits down, disrupting the sand and for a brief moment June feels the heat of it against her legs. These dresses are thinner than they ought to be. Even sitting down, the fabric flutters against the breeze.

“No!” snaps June, harsher than she intended. She clears her throat and tries again. “No, I did not watch him.”

“Right, so you just sat on the beach, staring at the ocean for, oh, I don’t know, let’s say four hours, just for the fun of it?”

“If you _must_ know,” says June, “He went around the corner. So, I couldn’t have seen him anyway.”

“The corner.”

“Yes! He went, right,” she gestures with her hand, a horizontal salute that she quickly abandons, “Right round. So, if I really did want to watch him, I would’ve gone up to my room. Thank you very much.”

“I see,” chuckles Kase.

“Good.”

She turns her face defiantly, staring out across the ocean with renewed intensity and an increasingly deliberate sense of effort. She hears Kase chuckle besides her, and although she is still too stubborn to turn her head, June spares her just a glance. A short one. Kase is looking out to sea too, and she’s not smiling. June can only sigh and look away. The ocean is impossibly vast.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” asks Kase.

“I don’t know,” says June. “I mean he’s dead, right? What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Who knows,” sings Kase, “If there’s a spooky old man telling us where we can walk, maybe there’s a spooky old fish telling him where he can sail.”

“What, you think Moby Dick was a ghost whale?”

“Maybe. How would you know?”

June really does give up on the ocean then, and turns back to Kase, who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, shut up,” says June, although she can’t help but smiling too. She tries to cover it up and swallow it, but the joy keeps resurfacing like a balloon. “Don’t I… I am having a very difficult moment here.” She pushes the hair out of her mouth. “I am _trying _to be serious.”

“Okay,” says Kase, and she shuffles closer. Her mouth droops as she smooths out her smile, and June is almost sorry for having ruined it. “Okay. You’re being serious, I get it. This is a big moment for you.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” says Kase, “_Seriously_. How are you feeling?”

The gulls overhead begin to laugh.

“I feel,” says June, enunciating the words at a snail’s pace. “Like… garbage. I feel like garbage.”

Kase raises her eyebrows.

“Because he’s gone?”

“No, not… Well, maybe I don’t know.”

“You’ve mourned him once before,” interjects Kase, a little more forcefully than June feels is really necessary, “It’s not healthy to do it again.”

“No, I know that. I know. It’s just… At least death is certain, you know? At least when he died, I knew what happened. But now… I mean, shit, he could walk back around that corner any minute.”

“So you want him back?”

“_No. _No, for God’s sake just listen to me. It’s the… It’s the not knowing that I don’t like, okay? I don’t know what he’s doing, or where he’s gonna go, and God knows what _I’m _doing. I mean, what happens if I forget him, huh? What happens if I spend too long here and, and forget _everything_ everything.”

“Don’t you want that?”

“Of course not! Look, I know your old life sucked and I’m not saying mine was, you know, some great triumph, but I _liked _my friends. I _liked _the people I knew. I don’t _want _to forget them. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life – death, whatever – throwing my chair out the window and setting shit on fire. Don’t you get that?”

“June, it’s… You don’t have to choose.”

“Oh, yeah,” snorts June, “Because I’ve already chosen, right?”

“No, June, it’s...” Kase sighs, places one hand on June’s leg. “It’s not either or. People have built another life for themselves here. They have relationships and friendships and rivalries, this isn’t…” She moves away and tucks her hands under herself in chastisement. “This isn’t some weird hedonistic sex cult.”

“Really?” interjects June, “That’s the first thing that came to mind?”

“No, look, I… The point is, you don’t have to forget. No one’s forcing you. It’s just… Most people here want to forget, that’s all.”

“Well,” says June, pushing herself off the sand and rising to her feet, “_That’s_ depressing.”

She turns to walk away – quite where she has not yet decided – but Kase bounds after her faster than she even thought possible. She jogs in front of her, blocks June’s path.

“Yeah,” says Kase, “So what? I was sad and bored, and then I died. Don’t I deserve another shot at things? Don’t we all?”

“But I…” begins June, trying to step around her. Kase only walks in front of her again. “Look,” says June, “I don’t want a second chance.”

“Really?” replies Kase, “Because you’ve already had the same thing before. You already died and found it was _exactly_ the same as being alive. Do you really want that again? Really?”

June exhales. She has a horrible feeling that, if Kase keeps talking, she’s going to cry.

“And look,” says Kase, “You don’t have to go to the parties or any of that crazy shit, because it’s not about that. You can sit in the sun doing crosswords for all anyone in there cares. It’s just… This is a fresh start, that’s all. And Oscar leaving was part of that. That doesn’t mean you have to forget him, or anyone, it just… It just means that things don’t have to be the way they were before. That’s all.”

June looks at her feet. She curls her toes in the glistening sand and it slips effortlessly between them, as if she weren’t there at all. But, when she relaxes, the beach has changed shape nonetheless.

“Fine,” she sighs, “Fine. Yes, okay, maybe you’re right.” She can’t bring herself to make eye contact, but she does look up from the floor. “I just… Yeah, fine, new beginnings, new opportunities. Yeah, fine. _Fine._ But why do they have to come all at once, you know? There’s _dying _and then all this gay shit, and Oceanside, and Oscar it’s just, it’s a lot. You _must _see how it’s a lot.”

“I’m sorry did I, did I miss something? Have we skipped part of the conversation?”

“What?”

“’Gay shit?’”

Kase even makes air quotes, just to rub it in.

“Oh shit, Jesus, shit. Look I didn’t…” June brings one hand to her face, rubs her own brow, feigning a headache. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she says, “I’m… You know I’m very tired, and it has been a rough morning for me. I’m confused.”

“No, no,” replies Kase, standing, hands on hips, with her back to the ocean, “I think you were very clear.”

“Great, cool, wonderful, well, seeing as I was so clear, you obviously knew exactly what I meant, and we can go back to the house for lunch.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but _I_ did. In my… Crystal-clear voice. So,” June takes a step back and gestures up the beach, “If you would care to lead the way, then– “

“You know I’m a lesbian, right?”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Yep.”

“But, you… You said you had a husband!”

“Yeah, because I come from a shitass Mormon family that said pick a man or fuck off. I mean, fuck, he was gay too. Doesn’t change anything.”

“But, but– You could’ve told them to fuck off!”

“And end up on the streets? Did I ever give you the impression we had a lot of money?”

“Well, no, but–”

“But nothing. You said ‘gay shit’ and you better start explaining.”

“Oh my god,” says June, “Is that why Marisol asked you to light her on fire?”

“No!” shouts Kase, and she sounds like she means it. “No. Well… Maybe, but it’s not mutual so that’s not–”

“That’s why you’re so attached to all this ‘new start’ shit, isn’t it? It’s not that you think–”

“No! Look we’re talking about you here!” There’s a beat. The standoff just only moments, until June, with a noncommittal shrug, allows Kase the space to talk. The first words out of her mouth are far from reassuring. “Now,” she says, arms folded. “I want you to tell me – what ‘gay shit’ were you referring to, exactly? Because I gave you the benefit of the doubt when we started hanging out, but if you’re really out here with your strange homophobic bullshit–”

“Oh, for God’s sake, _that’s _what you think I’m talking about? You think I’m some sad townie who hates ‘the gays’?”

“Well I don’t see any other gay shit flying around here, thank you very much.”

“Then boy, have I got news for you sister, because, ta-da! You’re looking at some gay shit right here!”

She throws her arms wide, and Kase, hitherto entirely unflappable, has never look so surprised.

“What?”

“Yeah,” says June, folding her arms. “Yep, one, big ol’ had-to-die-to-realise-she’s-bi chick right here. _That _is what I was talking about.”

“Well,” says Kase, “Shit.”

She unfolds her arms; June sighs and scuffs at the sand again.

“Look can we go inside, it’s getting cold and–”

“It’s not getting cold. Is that… Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you left Oscar? I mean, is that why you stayed with him? What… Actually no, you know what, what does that have to do with anything, really? You having a midlife identity crisis can’t be–”

“Mid-death.”

“Mid-death, whatever. Look, June…” Kase takes a step forward, placing her hands on June’s shoulders. “Why did you really want to leave Riverside?”

“Because… Because I wanted things to be different. I loved my husband, Kase. I really did. We had a really… Nice, life together. I mean boring sometimes but… It was… Fine.”

“Yeah, but was it a life you enjoyed living?”

“I mean… I didn’t hate it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The wind picks up again, and the sand blossoms over June’s bare feet. It scratches as much as it tickles. She shivers, hugging herself tight. Kase does not move away.

“Look,” says June eventually, “Can we… Can we go inside?”

Kase raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on, it _is_ getting a little chilly.”

Then, after a moment of defiance, Kase gives.

“Yeah,” she says, “Okay.”

She releases June’s shoulders, and offers, instead, her hand. June stares at it.

“C’mon,” says Kase, “You _have _had a rough morning after all. You weren’t wrong about that part.”

“Well,” says June, “I’m glad you noticed.”

She takes Kase’s hand and they walk, slowly over shifting sands, towards the house. On their way they pass Marisol and Gregory, who are walking, arms linked, in the opposite direction. Gregory tips his hat; Marisol blows an air kiss, which June, the moment they’re out of sight, wipes off her shoulder with a grimace. Kase laughs all the way up the steps to the veranda.

“By the way,” she says, as they push through the door and into the hallway, “You gotta tell me who it was.”

“What?”

“That made you realise! I take it, it wasn’t Marisol.”

“No,” shivers June, “Definitely not.”

“Well then who? Not someone in Riverside, surely.”

“Well,” says June, releasing Kase’s hand to play with her own sleeves, “Sort of?”

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“It’s um… Can I tell you after lunch?”

For a moment Kase looks like she’s going to push the point, and June, heart in her throat, mentally prepares a second death. But then Kase’s frown breaks into a smile.

“Sure,” she says, “Sure. I’m not gonna push you.”

“Great,” says June, sagging with relief. “Cool.”

“Besides,” continues Kase, as they thread towards the buffet hall, “It’s not like we’re about to run out of time.” 


End file.
